Legacy of Prophecy
by Lessiehanamoray
Summary: A series of one shots set in a different version of the Realms from my other fanfics. Newest chapter is Artemis Entreri with two original characters and sets up a major for Legacy of Prophecy to pursue.
1. Proper Reverance

Author's Note: Alright, so this is going to be a series of one shots which are in the same 'version' of the Realms. 'Version' is a very loose term as these stories keep changing with what I learn. I just like the characters. This has nothing to do with my other fanfiction. I'll try to give some sense of timeline, at the end of the story if nothing else.

* * *

**Proper Reverance**

Gromph Baenre was sure he had never been more openly humiliated in all his long years. His teleportation carried him straight to his office at his home, where he arrived with a bit of a bang and the rushing of air. His piercing amber eyes settled on the small bed against the wall, noting its disheveled state. With a groan he opened the door to be greeted with the smell of someone cooking. Forcing the anger off of his face he headed towards the dining room.

Being as he rarely had many guests the dining room was small, its table only fitting six. He had more space when he needed it but even when he had a mistress living with him, as he did now, he often ate alone. The smell of cooking meat and the sound of something being sliced emanated from the kitchen. He sat down, continuing to mask his irritation, and did not have to wait long before his slave came out with two plates of food.

Gromph had, in his mind at least, the most exotic slave in the entire city. The slave's purple eyes gleamed more vibrant than faerie fire and his platinum hair seemed almost drab in the blackness of the Underdark. His face was angular, very much the same shape as his master's, and his skin was deep brown. His sparkling white teeth were proudly on display as he set one place in front of his master and the other in front of the chair across from the Archmage. Any other slave would be lucky to be alive after sitting across from their master as an equal; this one not only as across from the very irritable Archmage, but started conversation as well.

"You can stop looking at it as poison," he announced in perfect High Drow, his voice following its own song.

"I am allowed my concern when you try new recipes," the Archmage responded evenly.

He must not have kept the anger entirely out of his voice for his slave seemed to grow a bit more cautious. "This is not the first time I have prepared venison."

"It is, however, the first time you have prepared it for me."

The slave shrugged. "My friends were quite fond of it when I prepared it from them."

Gromph was clearly still skeptical. "What is the green stuff on the side?"

"They are called sprouts and are primarily used for decoration, though they are edible. I thought they would taste good with red wine sauce."

The Archmage eyed the plate a moment before gently prodding it with his knife. The meat was clearly quite tender.

His slave, who had already started to eat, gave him an exasperated look. "Master, will you at least pass judgment after you have tried it? It is not as though I am going to feed you something to make you sick and I worked hard on it."

Gromph snapped. Glaring at his slave he hissed, "Just as I am sure you worked hard on desecrated the Baenre chapel?"

The slave pushed his chair back, staring wide-eyed at his master. "They found them? But…I…" He looked down, unable to match his master's angry gaze. "What did she do to you?" His voice shook in a combination of fear and guilt.

"Use your head, Svrick. Now, even after my humiliation, I am expected to create something grand for the temple…and you will help."

There was no room for argument when Gromph Baenre used that tone, and Svrick would not have argued anyways. His position as a heretic was well established, but his loyalty to his master went above everything else. "Whatever you need."

"First," stated Gromph as he finally dared to try the food before him, "I need an idea."

Artistry was clearly Svrick's department. "Some sort of golem?" he suggested sheepishly. It was well known that his master was brilliant when it came to golem craft. In fact, while he could enchant almost anything, golems were about the only thing he could really craft.

Gromph waved the idea away. "We have several already. Besides, I need something faster to construct and more unique."

"Will you have the help of a priestess?"

"If I need it, after all, this is going to be sacred to the Spider Queen."

Svrick winced. The idea of his master creating anything dedicated to Lolth hurt him profoundly and he was all too well aware that this was all his fault. "What about something to reflect the Spider Queen's ever changing mood?" Svrick paused for a moment, and was grateful to see his master growing intrigued. "It would be a combination of arcane and divine divination, and divination is your specialty."

"True, however both my transmutation and illusion skills are lacking, as is my ability to form an…exact replica of the Spider Queen's chosen face."

"Could you do it if you had a painting or a sketch before you?"

"Yes, but it would have to be appropriate."

Svrick grinned. "What if I do some sketches of your mistress?"

Gromph leaned back for a moment. Putting a mistress on a pedestal with a goddess was a dangerous move, but she was by far the loveliest woman he had ever seen. It made sense to use her as a model and she would think nothing of Svrick drawing her. His slave, in drow disguise, often visited her. She was also not the craftiest individual and would likely simply be flattered by the act instead of using it for her own ends. There was also the advantage that she was unlikely to ever enter the Baenre chapel. He looked to Svrick. "Very well, sketch her at both of your best and I will prepare the ritual.

Svrick beamed. The moment of concern had passed and his master would, hopefully, forget, or pretend to forget, his discretion. It probably wasn't a brilliant moment to mention the apple pie, however.

* * *

AN: So, this is the story of how Gromph got conned into decorating a temple to Lolth. It is also an introduction of Svrick, who I will write with a lot. Also, if Gromph seems to be behaving a little off it is a combination of writing him around someone he (basically) likes and knows very well. More importantly, some he completely trusts. I will also mention that he is very hard for me to write, so if you think there's something in particular that could be improved in how I portray him please let me know. I love him and want to do his character justice while still having my fun.


	2. Torn

Several (probably at least 3) years after Road of the Patriarch it is time for Jarlaxle and Entreri to say goodbye once more, but this time the tables are turned. Yaoi, OC, One Shot

AN: Ooh, POV changes…lot of them. I initially wanted to write this from Artemis' perspective, but ended up doing Jarlaxle instead. I thought the comparison between their views of events, modified by knowledge and perspective, would be interesting though so kept going with it. I just hope it's not too choppy.

The scene continues even at the breaks, I'm just changing perspective there. Part of why it's so often is so that you switch around during similar moments (and there's a couple of other characters around, one of whom should be obvious).

AN 2: Just take it for granted that there are events you don't know about. The fundamental thing is that Jarlaxle visited after RotP and they got close again.

Torn

Everything was wrong. The empty room called attention to that, forced Jarlaxle to realize the truth. Artemis stood before him, dressed all in black. The only weapon he carried was his dagger and it glimmered brighter than ever. Everything was wrong.

"Artemis," he muttered softly, "you wanted to meet with me." It was hard to resume business like tones. He had been so close to making Artemis his, but not it seemed that there would be no more chances. Jarlaxle had survived centuries and knew goodbyes when he saw them.

"I think you know. No, I know you know, because you always insist on knowing everything, don't you?"

He had expected Artemis to sound sad or teasing, but not resigned. There was hope with that resignation though! This was not want Artemis wanted and so maybe he could be talked out of it. A sobering thought came then. Nothing changed the mind of Artemis Entreri. Everything was wrong.

"I will find you. You know that."

Artemis shook his head. "Not this time. This time you will find me when I am ready to be found and no sooner."

"Why?"

Jarlaxle of a thousand words had been reduced to that simple word. It was all a matter of why. He gazed at Artemis, needing to know the answer. Had he done something wrong again? Was there something more at stake than he could understand?

* * * *

It hurt to see Jarlaxle like this. The normally calm mercenary looked as though his world was crumbling, and it was. That was why he needed to leave, why they needed to stop seeing each other. The biweekly visits had been nice, but they had to end. Someone had to survive.

"We just need to be apart for a time."

"You don't have much longer!"

Artemis smiled at the irony. He had conquered death before and he would conquer it as often as needed but if he didn't do this it would be Jarlaxle without any time. Events were occurring too fast and Jarlaxle needed to be safe; mutually defended and mutually loved…and entirely left out. It was the only way to make sure one of them survived.

"I can't have you haunting the rest of my life."

"Are you to abandon Dwhavel as well then?"

"She made her choice."

"You offered to take her with you and will not even tell me where you are going?"

Perhaps the time for honesty had come. He hated brutal truth, hated corny lines, hated loving someone has utterly as he loved Jarlaxle. That love was why he had to leave. That love mixed with utter devotion and faith in the person who had told him he had to, as well as the understanding that it wasn't his place to refuse the request. Jarlaxle was not his.

"She would have been safer with me, but for you it is all the more dangerous to visit. You already know, I know you already know, I love you and I don't want to see you get hurt because of me."

* * * *

Everything was wrong. Artemis saying that he loved him was not entirely unexpected, but that coupled with being expected to leave was too much. It was even worse that the reason was Artemis' lack of respect in his abilities. Anger mingled with confusion and sorrow.

"I could not be in more danger with you than travelling on my own or interacting with Matron Mothers. We can be together."

"No."

The response was so simple and yet filled with denial. Artemis wanted to deny what was happening, but he wasn't. Jarlaxle could feel it. It had been so long since he had loved anyone and now… everything was wrong.

He stepped forward, holding his hand out. Suddenly, he let it drop. "I love you too."

Artemis strode forward, taking Jarlaxle's hand in his own. "I know."

Jarlaxle walked into Artemis, clinging to the man as tightly as he could. It felt as though the moment he let go Artemis would walk out of his life forever. Everything was wrong, but maybe for a moment it could be just a little bit right.

* * * *

Artemis wrapped his arms around Jarlaxle. "You know the man I was, and that is more priceless than you know. That man is dead now," he lifted Jarlaxle's chin so they were staring into each other's eyes, "and someone new has come to take his place."

He could feel Jarlaxle shaking. It was slight, but its mere existence proved how badly he needed to leave. Jarlaxle's lips brushed against his, the drow's slender arms wrapping around his neck to make it easier.

How could he not fall into the embrace? How could he not hold Jarlaxle's waist, trying to imprint the taste of the drow's mouth forever in his mind? The kiss broke, but still they held tightly to each other.

"Would it be too hard for you?" Jarlaxle whispered as he felt the button's on Artemis' shirt.

Yes. It would make it far too hard to leave, but how could he refuse? He was the one doing this and Jarlaxle truly sounded like the man at the executioner. This was the final request and one that he truly longed to fulfill.

They kissed again.

* * * *

Something strange was happening. Kimmuriel could sense Jarlaxle's presence, but no one else seemed to be in the room. Was it some sort of illusion or trap?

No, Jarlaxle would not have fallen prey so easily, but there seemed no explanation for what was happening.

Jarlaxle had shut him out and so, having been ordered to stay in the next room, Kimmuriel had no way to know what was going on. All that he could do was wait and wait he did.

Something brushed against his mind.

"Odd, to be left out," muttered a voice in his mind. Immediately Kimmuriel tried to track it, but the mind which had spoken was nowhere to be sensed.

Several more minutes passed, possibly even an hour, and suddenly Kimmuriel felt a rush. There were three minds present.

Jarlaxle felt the end, Artemis a new road before him, but the third mind, the same one as had spoken to him, sensed a beginning.

* * * *

Jarlaxle opened his eyes and gazed at Artemis, red eye gazing into cold gray. Artemis' eyes seemed brighter than usual as he gently stroked Jarlaxle's cheek.

It was a pleasant sensation and the drow closed his eyes. He would do anything to make the moment last. The hand left and Jarlaxle opened his eyes to see Artemis quickly dressing.

"Artemis."

"You should get dressed as well. I am sure Kimmuriel grows anxious."

Jarlaxle slowly stood. "You sound like you don't care anymore."

"It's the only way I can truly say goodbye."

The drow slowly began to dress, watching Artemis the entire time. How could he help but burn the man's image into his mind?

"It's rare for me to mean it."

"I know."

Jarlaxle finished putting on his vest and headed to meet up with Kimmuriel, trying desperately not to look back.

* * * *

That had been stupid and he let Artemis know it the moment Jarlaxle left. Charon did not tolerate long goodbyes. It would have been better to simply leave Jaralxle a note somewhere, or just to go missing. Now the drow would certainly seek them out, and that could only herald disaster for all concerned.

"Shut up, Charon," Artemis muttered, tears slowly leaking out his eyes. "I love him, and there's nothing you can do about it."

This was pathetic. It would be better if they just left!

* * * *

Artemis closed his eyes, trying to ignore Charon's anger. It was understandable, the way he would have sounded himself just a few years ago, but this was different. Not only had he encountered true love, but he had been forced to abandon it by same man who had made it realized.

Wasn't he forgetting something?

Gingerly, Artemis reached into a pocket and smiled as he felt the piece of parchment. He lay it on the floor.

"Alright, Charon, let's go home."

Charon didn't need to be told twice, in fact he didn't need to be physically told at all.

* * * *

Everything was wrong. Jarlaxle sighed again. He just didn't want to leave yet. Kimmuriel was growing impatient though, angry at him for taking so long to get it over with.

Suddenly, the psion jolted.

"What is it?"

"Something used psionics," his lieutenant muttered.

Jarlaxle ran into the room he had shared with Artemis only moment before. "Artemis!" He had his rapiers out, ready for any trouble that might come his way.

There was nothing in the room. It was as stark as it had always been. Jarlaxle blew a sigh of relief, but when he thought about it…

Artemis had to have been the one to use the psionics, but how? Kimmuriel had noted that the man had less of an aptitude than most people. He couldn't even use basic psionic devices. An ally maybe?

There was something on the floor. Gingerly, Jarlaxle picked it up.

It was nothing more than a child's drawing of him and Artemis. They were barely even recognizable, but still they managed to look happy. On the bottom of the drawing someone has signed the name Khalin.

Jarlaxle pressed the parchment to his chest. If Khalin was still with him than maybe things weren't as bad as Artemis had made it sound, maybe they could be together again.

* * * *

Artemis leaned against the wall, tired and worried.

"Artemis!"

He turned to regard the young boy who had come rushing up to him, a youngling shadow dragon trailing behind him.

"Hello, Khalin, Mestnuset. Aren't you two supposed to be asleep?"

Khalin rushed up and hugged him. "How could we sleep with you out and about? I worry."

"You sound like Arile."

"Like who?" a soft voice asked.

Artemis sighed as the beautiful elven female came forward. "You shouldn't encourage them."

"You're the closest thing Khalin has to father, Lord Tanthron. He has a right to worry about you."

"Thanks for taking care of him tonight."

"How did things go?"

"How's Uncle Jarlaxle?"

"He's fine, he's fine."

And now he was better than he could ever hope to be with Artemis Tanthron in his life.

AN: Yes, he really is Artemis Entreri, but this is playing with the comment at the end of RotP about that man being dead. There's a lot of back story here which I may play with, if there's any interest. I have most of it in my head, so I just need to know people are interested in it being written down and posted.

I sincerely hope that Charon is an understood reference, but just in case… He's the being which resides in Charon's Claw and the story of he and Artemis came to be bound as tightly as they are is one of those bits of back story.

Please review if you enjoyed it, or if you see a specific plot/character point where it could use improvement, but no flaming. If it was a pile of crap then you wouldn't have gotten far enough to read this.

Thanks!


	3. Spider Eyes

Disclaimer: All characters but Svrick belong to Wizards of the Coast. I'm just writing this for the heck of it, and would have probably edited it a lot more if I intended to make money with it.

AN: Takes place before any of the other one shots up to this point. I thought it would be interesting to show Svirck and Zak interacting.

**Spider Eyes**

Zaknafein Do'Urden knew something was wrong even as he approached the door to his quarters. Behind him young Drizzt continued to practice with his scimitars, dancing to his own rhythym. He couldn't know that someone had snuck into his weapon master's room, and so Zak opened the door as nonchalantly as ever.

He was ready to dodge anything but not ready to gaze upon the person before him.

Those who came to Zaknafein's private quarters often wondered why the bed was in once corner, and the chair and desk was in the other corner...as far away from the head of the bed as possible. The figure who sat with his legs tucked up to his chest, head resting upon the knees, was the only reason for it.

"Svrick," Zak said gently as he closed the door. He moved along the wall to his chair, keeping his hands in plain sight the whole time. "Thanks for coming."

"What do you want, Zak?" Platinum blonde hair obscured most of his brown face, but Zaknafein could feel the purple eyes boring into him. The eyes weren't what worried him, although they were the issue, but the tone was wrong. They had never gotten along, but Svrick always sounded snide or flippant or sometimes sadistic, but he never sounded so weary. His muscles were tense, and it seemed he had not relaxed for far too long.

"You know what I want, what I need."

"Drizzt," the half-drow replied simply.

Slowly, Zak nodded. "He's one of yours. Please tell me he's one of yours."

Silence responded.

"Svrick, he's my son."

"I don't give a damn," came the apathetic reply. Sometimes, Svrick was too much like his older brother.

"He's different, he's not..."

"Don't give me that shit."

Zak balled his hands into fists, barely resisting the urge to charge the uppity assassin in front of him. Fights between Zaknafein Do'Urden and Svrick Durolthil never ended well. Svrick's next words drained all of that anger in an instant, replacing it with a remorse the weapon's master had tried to forget.

"If you want sympathy, go to Jarlaxle."

"He would simply turn it to profit," Zak croaked in reply. It was true, it had always been true, Jarlaxle was in it for Jarlaxle.

"That is between you and him. Now, is there any reason beyond someone to whine at that you called me here? I can't exactly waltz in whenever I want."

Finally, something they could squabble about! "Yes, you can. That's what makes you so damn terrifying."

If Svrick noticed the compliment he didn't acknowledge it. "What do you want?"

"You wouldn't have come if you didn't already know."

"That is not the point," Svrick declared, accentuating every word.

"Do you want me to beg then?"

A glint of purple showed through the hair and once more Zak felt them bore into his soul.

"You don't like him and...Svrick, don't hurt him. He's my son, he's different, he's...I promise, if he falls into the pit of being drow..."

"You're one to talk," came the sarcastic interruption.

"That was long ago."

"Not long enough. You forget, Zaknafein, my memory is perfect."

He could feel the pain in Svrick's words, pain he had caused. For years Zak had tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault, but he had enjoyed it. That part of him which was wholly drow and enjoyed it, and dreamed of doing it again, and again, and again.

Svrick unfurled as he stood, revealing himself to be both thinner and taller than the weapon's master. "Talk to me again when you get a brain." With that he simply left, Zak didn't even see how. Although, he had the distinct feeling that the shadows were smiling at him, like they were ready to devour his soul.

* * *

Zak had called on him again, and the desperation in his letter was hard to miss. "He let the cat out of the bag," Svrick muttered.

"In drow, please," came the cold voice to his left.

"Jarlaxle told Zak."

"And you are surprised why?"

Svrick turned to regard his brother and master, Gromph Baenre. The Archmage leaned over a tome, taking notes as he spoke. "I would have thought he wished to allow Zaknafein to avoid the torment of knowing."

"You're thrilled, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" Svrick snapped truthfully. "If he commits suicide because of it then Jarlaxle will have gotten rid of a pest!"

"And we will have the joys of a depressed Jarlaxle," Gromph pointed out.

"You always have to put a damper on things, don't you?" Svrick paused as he considered the letter again. "Should I go?"

"Do you want to torment him?"

A grin spread across Svrick's face and he stood up. "If it's alright. I'll leave you to fend for yourself tonight."

"Have fun, and send my regards. Oh, and don't be blatant about it, but make sure he realizes he owes me."

"Why, because you an apathetic bastard who couldn't be bothered to use up a missile storm?"

Amber eyes matched purple ones and Svrick blushed under his master's imperious glare. "This is your mess, not mine."

"And it's both our heads if the Elder decides we could have done better," Svrick replied.

Gromph muttered something about her not understanding politics in the least and proceeded to completely ignore Svrick. This sort of moodiness ran in the family. Having lived with Gromph his whole life Svrick knew when it was simply time to leave and did so promptly.

He didn't need much. It was just a noble's house and it was just him going in. If he actually wanted to steal something or kill someone he might have worried about it, but simply sneaking was far easier. Within half a mark of Narbondel's flame Svrick was in Zak's room waiting for him to finish with training. This time around Svrick perched on the chair.

"You came," Zak muttered as he entered the room. Svrick raised his eyebrows as Zak stood in the door, and the weapon's master quickly got to the opposite end of the room and sat at the head of his bed. "Is this better?"

"Much," Svrick replied tersely. "So, Jarlaxle spilled the beans." Zak gave him a very confused look. "Oh, let the cat out of the bag?" Zak now gave him a slightly annoyed confused look. "You got wind of it!" Zak now gave him a very annoyed confused look. "He told you about the spiders!" Svrick finally snapped, although he had truly enjoyed that looks on Zak's face.

"How can you put it so lightly?"

Svrick shrugged. "I've known for a long time."

"He's a servant of the spider bitch, how can he be her servant?"

"She's a trickster who weaves other's fates," Svrick explained, leaning forward a bit. "She also loves irony, with a passion. If Drizzt embraced her, then she would dump him in an instant. She knows though, she knows you can't let that happen, or can you?" He leaned back. "I know you don't encourage it, but if it starts to happen, how can you stop it?"

"It's already started, and I intend to kill him."

"Can you?"

"Yes."

Svrick smirked. "If I just saw you as others often do I would laugh, but being as I know what a cruel bastard you are, I'll leave it to you."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"You let it get to this point and you're letting me finish it."

"Zak, don't make me sound like some heroic friend. You know I can't stand sounding heroic."

"You're an adventurer, aren't you?"

"Shh!" Svrick hissed, a smile on his face. "I have a reputation to maintain, and storyteller is not on the list."

"So you aren't?" Zak asked, confused.

"I am, but, really, I travel with a priest of Corellan."

"Who?"

"You are hopeless."

Zak laughed. "That's me, the doofus."

"Always, and for all eternity. At least you aren't the drunk anymore."

That comment was all it took to break the camaraderie which had been building in the room. Zaknafein turned sharply away. "I can forgive myself for what I did to you, but I can never forgive what I did to him, and then to both of you."

"By Vhaeraun, a conscience! You need to be careful with those."

"You aren't the first person to say that."

Svrick winked. "I know, but it matters when it comes from me." There was a pause, Zak wearing a small smile. "How's Jarlaxle doing?"

Zak looked at him sharply. "He's fine, I'm sorry, but he's fine. What about you?"

"Why would I need him? He's just a pompous peacock. Why would I need him?" Svrick felt his chest constrict and he leaned back. "Take care of him for me. That's all I ask, when it comes down to it...don't hurt him again, in any way. That's all I want. He needs to be fine without me."

"Svrick," Zak muttered gently.

"I hate your guts, just want to see them strewn all over the floor, but I can't hurt him either." Svrick sniffled. "I want to be held." He stood up. This was not the place for that sort of thing, or the person. "I have Vhaeraun. I have contented myself with that."

"I can't imagine worshipping a deity."

"I don't worship him, I love him." Svrick knew he was sincere, but why did he have to choose people who never actually acted like they cared even on those rare occasions when they did?

"Say thank you to the Archmage for me, for allowing me to make the decision."

Svrick nodded, and left.

* * *

AN: Would it be easier if I rearranged the chapters in chronological order as I updated, or should I keep them in the order the are and just note the timeline in author notes. Please, let me know.


	4. Within the Wall

**Within the Wall**

"Artemis!"

All of time seemed to stop as the sword ripped through Artemis' stomach, slicing up until the ribs stopped it. The vicious creature, no longer deserving any title beyond that, kept yanking up and up, attempting to continue and rip through his victim. Artemis began to choke. The creature laughed, ignoring the fight around it.

It exploded in a gush of blood and Artemis fell glassy-eyed to the floor. A ghostly silhouette stood over Artemis' prone form, defensive and daring. Long black hair whipped around his angular face and any who enemies who came too close found themselves sharing the same fate as their companion.

Svrick dived between a pair to grab Artemis. "Charon!"

"No!" came the sharp reply. The ghost's body seemed to be fading.

"We can save him!"

"You'd still have to heal the wound!"

"Damnit, Charon!"

"If you can guarantee he'll still survive I'll transport you, but we have to deal with our opponents first."

Svrick closed his purple eyes for a moment before standing. "These bastards killed Artemis trying to get to me. Just defend his body and see if you can patch it up a bit." He pulled out an old two-bladed sword with elven runes down its length and charged into the fray. An anger purer than any divine gift a god could provide fueled him and he called upon powers he had forgotten he possessed.

"El! Jal del dos el!" Die! All of you die!

His words carried the weight of truth behind them and his strikes were true. Attacks which should never have been fatal struck the heart or severed an important vein. The creatures became human in his mind again as they screamed, but it didn't matter. They had killed Artemis, and all in the name of justice and light. Damn Lathander! Damn all goodly gods! Damn all gods.

Svrick through his sword to the floor and ran back to Artemis. Charon was mostly insubstantial by now, but Artemis' body looked as though it could once more support life.

"I can only send you for a short time. I am afraid that my energy is not as great as it could be."

"Use your crystals, as many as you need to. I'll replace them for you."

"Svrick, I will go as long as I can. The rest is up to you."

He nodded, tears beginning to flow, and held Artemis' cold hand. "He shouldn't be in the Wall yet," he muttered as Charon closed his eyes.

"Fate be with you."

Svrick nodded as he felt the tug on his soul. Following it, he lay beside Artemis and felt his spirit rising. It rose higher and higher before seeming to pass through a portal as Charon directed the tug in the path Artemis' soul had so recently followed.

Bringing souls back was not new for Svrick. He had been a High Priest of Vhaeraun for many decades and had brought many souls out of Lolth's clutches. This felt different than all of those times before. Perhaps it was the fact he was using psionic methods, but he doubted it. Charon led him straight to the Wall where souls that did not worship a deity were trapped for all eternity. It was then Svrick realized what was wrong.

It should have taken several days for Artemis to even be this close to the wall. The tug was slow, one many spirits resisted to return as ghosts on the Prime Material plane, and should have taken several days. that Artemis was already at the wall meant that something had directly pushed him in that direction, and fast. Svrick's spirit now stood beside the Wall.

"Artemis!"

No response.

"Artemis, answer me!"

No response.

"Artemis, it's Svrick!"

The entire Wall seemed to respond, groaning out his name in hope. He looked to a soul which hung mostly out.

"Did a new spirit get ushered in recently?"

The spirit looked to its right. Svrick bolted in that direction, scanning the Wall as he went. He paid no heed to what was behind him, only to the Wall.

"Artemis!"

The number of fresh spirits was thinning out.

"Artemis!"

The Wall was now mostly smooth.

"Artemis!"

"Svrick, run!" called Artemis' voice from just a little ahead.

He ran there without thinking or looking, stopping to stare at Artemis' soul when he found it.

Firstly, he noticed that Artemis was already halfway embedded in the wall. Secondly, he noticed that while most souls were white Artemis' appeared red. Thirdly, he realized there was heat at his back.

"Run," Artemis begged.

Reaching in, Svrick grabbed his friend by the shoulder and began to pull.

"Just run! I'm already trapped."

The heat was getting closer and it seemed that Artemis couldn't look away.

"Please, we can't lose you. Svrick, run! I'm dead no matter what you do."

"Nau! Artemis, you can't say things like that. I forbid it!"

The heat pressed against his back as he pulled, threatening to singe his soul and he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Svrick, just run."

"Nau! You're getting out of this wall right...now!"

A purple glow enveloped them both, turning to blue as it went, the weave itself responding to his call.

"That spirit can't escape!" a voice behind him, further back than the heat, called.

The heat came rushing forward, Artemis popped out of the wall, and they were both on the floor of the Copper Ante cellar. Charon's faded form looked over them worriedly.

"What happened?"

"That heat, Artemis, what was it?" Svrick asked as he sat up.

Artemis didn't say anything; just kept breathing hard, his eyes open with fear.

"Artemis?"

Charon took a step back. "Don't, just...don't."

"But," Svrick began to protest. A look at Charon's stricken face stopped him. "What happened?"

"It's something Artemis and I will deal with. Now, get him up to his room and let us rest."

"But, what happened?"

Artemis pressed his face against Svrick's chest.

"Isn't that enough to tell you that you would be better served not knowing?"

Svrick sighed, but had to admit that Charon had a point. "Alright."

He lifted Artemis up and began heading to his room, but kept wondering what had happened. Both Artemis and Charon seemed scared. It was rare enough for one of them to be scared, but both had very different ideas of what constituted terrifying and rarely agreed on it. That something was so terrible to scar them both worried him profoundly. That they refused to tell him only made the fear deeper.

Artemis had to have witnessed something he wasn't supposed to, but what could it have been?

* * *

AN: This is between Proper Reverence and Torn. Seriously, if this gets much longer I'll definitely have to put them in chronological order. I know that will be confusing for those of you who have been reading them, but it will make it a lot easier to keep track of events. Once more I note that they are listed in order on my profile.

Thanks for reading and please review!


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